


Preening

by Zombiiewrites



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-24
Updated: 2014-04-24
Packaged: 2018-01-20 14:24:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1513766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zombiiewrites/pseuds/Zombiiewrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas needs help cleaning his wings. Dean enthusiastically volunteers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Preening

Normally, Cas would do this sort of thing on his own. Preening his wings was a bit of a chore to handle solo but it was managable; he had been doing it for millenia, long before he met Dean. However, following their earlier hunt, he simply didn’t have the energy. His angel blade had been knocked away during the scuffle and he had been forced to resort to using his grace on more than a dozen demons using his sacred will alone—in addition to healing both Sam and Dean once the threat had been eliminated. Their arena was overridden with dust and ash, all of which had been kicked up and settled into his feathery additions throughout and after the altercation. It was the equivalent to the discomfort of trying to walk while wearing soggy socks multiplied by a thousand. Annoying, uncomfortable, and impossible to ignore.

He was hesitant about asking Dean, despite their established relationship, but any hesitation Cas was feeling was instantly purged when Dean enthusiastically agreed.

Dean’s practiced, oil-slickened fingers worked through the layers of rigid feathers, starting from inner most tertials and throughout the various covert levels. Castiel laid on the bed, fully nude save for the towel tossed carelessly over his hips—that was more of a precaution in case Sam walked in on them. His wings were fully ejected, spread across the length of the motel room. Dean hunched over him, one knee weighted into the mattress with his other foot planted on the floor, musing over Cas’ brief instructions as he worked his hands through the black, velvety extremities.

He noted the hitch in Castiel’s breath when he neared the axillaries closest to his shoulder blades and halted his movements briefly before repeating the same action just an inch closer. Again, Cas’ breath caught in his throat but this time, he buried his face into the pillow and clutched at the sheets. Dean’s eyebrows peaked curiously at the reaction; he contemplated doing it again for good measure but held off—for all he knew, he was hurting Cas. This was the first time he’d done this, after all.

"Cas, you okay?" Dean asked, sounding more curious than concerned.

"M’fine," Castiel responded, voice muffled by the fabric.

Shrugging, Dean calmly reached back beneath the other’s right wing in search of one of the two hidden preen glands Cas had so graciously pointed out earlier. Once he located it, Dean rubbed the spot delicately until his digits were slick with oil once again. To Dean’s surprise, Castiel shuddered visibly when he removed his fingers. Dean tentatively brushed off the behavior and repositioned himself so that he was straddling the back of Castiel’s thighs. The new position gave him enough room to thoroughly clean off the inner most sections of his wings, which he soon realized were the most sensitive.

It made sense considering the primaries saw the most action and were most likely more durable, but Dean couldn’t have predicted that Castiel would react like  _this_.

Within a matter of minutes, Cas was reduced to a pile of sweaty, squirming limbs. He’d stopped hiding his face in the pillow and let his moans spill out openly as he clutched and pawed at the bedspread. Dean practically played him like an instrument, rapidly learning which ministrations made Cas hum and which ones made him sing.

"Feel good, baby?" Dean half laughed, a bemused smile plastered on his handsome face.

Cas only moaned back in response, his back arching beautifully when Dean stroked the final axillary feather between his talented fingers. “Dean,” Castiel huffed out his lover’s name and rolled his shoulders back, wings furrowing slightly at the motion. 

Dean studied the shift of his feathers and withdrew in time to watch them ruffle and readjust. “What is it, Cas?” he cooed affectionately, easily recognizing that desperation in his angel’s voice. He dragged his hand down the center of Castiel’s back, feeling the ridges there when he arched under his touch. 

"Don’t stop," Castiel practically whimpered, casting Dean the most enticing over the shoulder glance he could muster—damp hair clinging to his forehead, pupils blown out to capacity, shallow breaths escaping parted pink lips, otherwise known as: the works. 

Dean leaned over and pressed his still clothed body against Cas’ bare one, being mindful of his wings all the while. He coaxed Castiel’s head back gently and held him loosely beneath his jaw while pressing sloppy kisses to the side of his face. “Breathe, angel. I’ll take care of you,” Dean whispered calmly, grinning faintly whenever Cas’ Adam’s apple bobbed against his palm. 

Castiel relaxed after Dean spoke and wrapped his arms around the pillow once he was released. He managed to compose his breathing somewhat, at least to the point where he was no longer trembling, but still rutted against the sheets deliriously even when Dean sought out his second preening gland. 

Dean admired the muscles that surfaced whenever Castiel’s thighs tensed. He soothed a hand over the firm flesh there and gently eased his fingertips beneath the towel while lubricating the other hand in Cas’ natural oils. Like before, the angel quivered delightfully once he’d stopped massaging the hidden pore but rather than following the same technique and diving right in, Dean instead eased back and wordlessly removed the towel over Cas’ backside. 

Dean rubbed his hands together, distributing the glistening oil evenly over each of his fingers, and clamped down on the back of Castiel’s thighs before easing his hands up towards the curve of his ass, slow and deep. By the time Dean had retrieved his second helping of preening oil, Cas’ ass and thighs were shiny and slick and Dean was almost certain he was about to bust through the seam in his sweat pants. 

"On a scale of one to ten, how mad would you be if I snapped a picture of this? Because I can honestly say this has got to be the hottest thing I have ever seen in my life," Dean let out truthfully, his jaw going slack at the mere sight of his handiwork. Between the contrast of his midnight wings against his tanned complexion and that well oiled backside, Cas looked downright edible. 

Cas retorted with a simple bark of his name and ruffle of his mismatched wings; Dean took the hint. 

He resumed his task of cleaning Castiel’s left wing, starting off with the large primaries and gradually moving in towards his spine. He stroked over each bristly feather and gathered more oil when necessary, doing his best to keep his own composure when Cas began to lose his. Again. 

"Feels so good. So, so good," Castiel panted into the sheets, body shaking and toes curling. 

Dean smiled at Cas’ breathless encouragement, each chant of his name and every whimpered plea for  _more_ shooting straight to his already straining cock. He combed his fingers through the hypersensitive inner most feathers, coating them in the oil thoroughly before rubbing it in one section at a time. 

By the time Dean had reached the axillary feathers of Cas’ left wing, the angel was pretty much putty in his hands. Castiel practically melted into the mattress, moaning out shamelessly and incoherently praising Dean like he was God himself. “So close, Dean. Wa-Want to feel more of you,” Cas whispered, knowing he didn’t need to spell it out for Dean to understand what he wanted. 

Within seconds, Dean had managed to pull off his clothes and discard them in a pile beside Cas’ trenchcoat and suit. His cock hung red and heavy between his legs as he climbed back onto the bed and positioned himself at his lover’s already well lubricated entrance. They were both so close at this point, so built up from the unintentional wing play, that Dean knew neither of them would last long. 

"Let me in, baby. Keep breathing," Dean whispered, feeding his cock into Cas’ wet hole and narrowing his eyes when he slid in effortlessly. "So hot, Cas. You’re so tight around me," Dean continued, thrusting in shallowly while reaching forward to bury his hands between the most sensitive layers of Castiel’s wings. 

Cas cried out, partly from the friction and partially from the sensation of Dean handling his feathers. Before long, Dean’s hips were snapping forward and back in rapid succession, each penetration leaving Castiel gasping and writhing beneath him. He thrust his cock against the sheets unabashedly while Dean fucked into him quickly and deliberately. 

"Come for me, angel," Dean panted, wiping the sweat from his brow with his forearm while strumming his fingertips across the tertial layer one last time. 

Castiel came hard, his untouched cock pulsating and throbbing as he soiled the sheets and let out the most filthy, desperate moan of Dean’s name. 

When his inner walls clamped down around him, Dean shuddered and thrust in deep, each contraction of Castiel’s hole milking him for more of his hot come. The hunter collapsed with a huff, not even bothering to pull out, and tangled one hand in Cas’ hair while bracing himself up with the opposing arm above his head.

"Son of a bitch," Dean whispered, taking the moment to catch his breath and gently slide out. "That was—damn," he grunted, easing back on his knees slowly while trailing his lips down the center of Cas’ back and pressing a kiss right between his wings before Castiel gathered enough energy to pull them in and will them away. "So, about that picture…" Dean let out, smirking against his warm skin. 

Cas just hummed and nuzzled into the pillow, hiding a smile when he heard the distinct shutter of Dean’s camera phone go off.


End file.
